


Christmas in the Dark

by Vagabond



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Drabbles, F/F, F/M, M/M, Sweet, person of interest christmas, pretty much everything is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Machine may have to live in the dark hiding from Samaritan, but they manage to make Christmas happen anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John Reese/Harold Finch

**Author's Note:**

> These are just some cute little holiday drabbles about Team Machine and how they handle the holidays.

Harold stared at the computer screen until the numbers on it began to blur. When he could no longer concentrate he leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. With a heavy sigh he shifted and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. The glasses were folded and carefully set on the desk before he rested his head back against the edge of the chair. He was no closer to solving the world’s problems and it weight on him with a heaviness equivalent to wet denim. 

“Harold,” the voice filled the room and wrapped him in a comforting blanket. John stood no more than five feet away given the volume of his voice. A small part of Harold yearned to reach out to him, but a larger part pushed it down. There was no time for small comforts. 

Yet John often operated on a different frequency. The next thing Harold felt were fingers running through his hair. They were John’s, confident and comforting. The touch drew a sigh and John laughed quietly to himself in return. 

“It is Christmas,” John pointed out quietly. 

“In the past we’ve never put much stock in holidays, Mister Reese. I don’t believe Samaritan plans to take the day off.” 

“It is Christmas,” John repeated and Harold imagined the other man had merely shrugged in response. When John had something in mind he usually followed through with narrow-vision accuracy that often left Harold breathless. 

“Samaritan has no way to find us down here.” 

“I would be careful about deciding what Samaritan can or cannot do,” Harold replied but John had a point. At least for the moment, they were safe. He sat up and opened his eyes. He reached out for his glasses and slid them back over his face. Yet once his eyes adjusted to being opened again he realized there was a faint glow coming from outside of the room he’d made into their office. 

“Mister Reese?” 

“Come on,” John motioned his head toward the open doorway into the main part of their underground hideout. He reached down to take Harold’s hand and laced their fingers together. Harold was tugged to his feet and half-reluctantly followed. 

In an area against a wall a small tree had been erected. On it were dozens of tiny glittering Christmas lights which reflected off of the golden garland draped around the tree. At the base were presents, and in front of it two plush chairs and a dog bed. Bear had already taken his rightful place on the bed and set out to chewing up a new knuckle bone. 

“Merry Christmas,” John said quietly and leaned down, brushing his lips against Harold’s cheek. Harold turned his head and crashed their lips together, his heart overflowing with gratitude. He reached up with his free hand and rested it on John’s cheek as he forcefully deepened the kiss, practically knocking the taller man over.  
When they broke away both of them appeared breathless and John gave Harold a quizzical look. 

“Thank you, John,” Harold murmured as he followed John’s cheekbone with his thumb. “Merry Christmas.” 

John just smiled and the world was right.


	2. Shaw/Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw and Root don't really do traditional Christmas

Shaw stared up at the ceiling. Beside her, Root slept, and Shaw was jealous. Even with an aching body and deliciously sore bites and scratches decorating her skin, sleep was far away. She tried to blame it on the red and green glow of the Empire State Building that leaked through her window, but she knew it was more than that. It was another Christmas spent not existing, yet this time she’d managed to find someone who helped her feel alive. 

It disturbed her, or at least that was the only emotional word she was willing to put toward the sensation that started in her stomach and emanated throughout her whole being. Something about the quietly sleeping woman beside her left her with a sense of being complete. There had been so many Christmases she’d spent alone, out of country, and on a mission that it was strange to be in the United States. Stranger yet to have someone there who wanted her as much as she wanted them. 

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Root’s sleepy voice filled the room and Shaw felt the vibrations of her voice against her shoulder where the other woman then placed a gentle kiss. 

“You can’t hear thoughts,” Shaw answered. 

“I can hear yours,” Root replied and stretched her arm across Shaw’s waist. Her fingertips ghosted along an old scar on Shaw’s side with a frightening familiarity. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Shaw replied shortly, “there’s nothing to talk about.” 

“Oh Sameen. I know you better than that.” 

Warm lips trailed across Shaw’s shoulder and then along the line of her collarbone. Reflexively, one of Shaw’s hands came up to rest in Root’s hair, fingers curling in the already messy locks. It was her way of staking a claim without actually saying a thing. She also tilted her head back and closed her eyes when Root gently bit down on her pulse. 

Just like that, Root took her time in taking her apart. It was slower than earlier, as if Root planned to savor every inch of Shaw’s skin, every moan, and ever shiver. In the end Shaw was reduced to silent trembling as she turned herself over to her lover. They rested together afterward, Shaw turned on her side with her head nestled against Root’s shoulder as the other woman idly touched her. 

“Merry Christmas, Sameen,” Root murmured fondly into her hair. “I’m happy you’re not spending it alone.” 

Shaw said nothing because she knew there was no need. She simply closed her eyes and finally slept.


	3. Carl Elias/Anthony Marconi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where Anthony survived the explosion, Elias makes Christmas dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hand slipped.

“What, no filet mignon?” 

Carl looked at Anthony skeptically as he set the bag of food on the other man’s bedside table. 

“You were in an explosion, Anthony,” Carl answered, calmly and evenly, which impressed Anthony who attempted to get under the other man’s skin. “It will be a while before you’re eating steak.” 

“So what did you make?” He reached over and Carl gently pushed his hand away. 

“Chicken noodle soup and freshly baked bread. It isn’t much of a Christmas meal, I’ll admit, but it is better than pudding and whatever else that terrible nurse has insisted on feeding you.” 

“She ain’t terrible, boss. She’s doin’ her job because if she didn’t, you wouldn’t have hired her in the first place.” 

“I also hired her so that I can blame her for all of the things I’m not allowed to do for you until you’ve recovered.”

“Fair enough. Chicken soup is going to be better than what she’s been feeding me.” 

Anthony had been kept in one of the best safe houses Carl had to offer. The room he was in was stocked to the max with any and all possibly necessary hospital gear. He’d even tracked down a new hospital bed which had been set up in the room complete with the remote to adjust the position. When Anthony had woken up after the explosion he had expected to be dead, not in a somewhat familiar room surrounded by unfamiliar nurses and a doctor who look half scared to be there. 

It had been a great deal of recovery, but at least he was alive. Burned and beaten, but alive and able to see the loving look his boss sent his way whenever he looked at him. 

“Now, it is hot so I’m going to let it cool down a bit. Is there anything else you might want with dinner?”

“Boss, c’mere,” Anthony replied and Carl gave him a curious look. With a shrug, Anthony held out his hand and Carl took it, making a surprised noise when he was tugged far enough forward that he shot out a hand to the far side of the bed to hold himself up. Anthony leaned in and pressed their lips together in a tender kiss and felt Carl’s lips curl up into a smile against his own. 

“When you’re better, Anthony,” Carl mumbled against his mouth, “the things I plan to do…”

Eventually Carl pulled away and stood up straight, though his gave never once wavered from Anthony’s face. 

“Even burnt to a crisp like I am?” 

“Even so,” Carl replied without hesitation. “Now let’s eat.”


	4. Jeremy Lambert/Martine Rousseau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samaritan's people get a day off, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What.

“Look at the snow, Martine.” 

“There’s been snow all week, where have you been?” She scowled in his general direction and he just shrugged in return. 

“Really look. It is snowing. We’re watching completely unique crystallized water fall from the sky to create a blanket on the ground. Do you know how valuable a white Christmas is?” 

Martine threatening pulled her gun from where it had been stashed against the small of her back and checked it over. Jeremy side eyed her and frowned at the weapon before he looked back to the snow. He enjoyed pestering her, but on Christmas of all days he’d hoped to spread at least a little bit of cheer. 

“Did you know the Ginch’s heart grew three sizes after he embraced the true meaning of Christmas? Sounds like you could use that.” 

“An enlarged heart is a bad thing. The Grinch probably had heart disease.” Martine gave Jeremy a significantly annoyed look as she slipped her gun back into place and stared back out at the street. “There’s nothing enjoyable about standing out here with nothing to do. Samaritan is a computer, why does it feel the need to take a holiday?”

“Because we’re human,” Jeremy answered easily, “and somehow it knows that rest is important.” 

“More like boring,” Martine replied and frowned out at the city which had been quieted by the snow and the holiday. 

He crept away from her while she wasn’t looking, just a few feet to the right and then a step or two forward. Bending down, he made to tie his shoe but with his back partially to Martine he formed a snowball instead. Then, with a quick snap of his arm, he chucked it at her and watched as it hit her shoulder and exploded into a puff of white.

The look she gave him was a strange mix of fond and deadly which made him wonder just how much trouble he was in. In a flash she tackled him, flipped him, and shoved his face into the snow. Then he felt the weight of her against him as she bent down so her mouth was right beside his ear.   
“Two can play at this game,” she growled and shoved snow under his jacket and down the back of his shirt before bouncing back up onto her feet and taking off down the snow covered sidewalk. 

He laughed, got up, and gave chase. After all, it was Christmas.


	5. Harold Finch/Lionel Fusco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fusco gets a gift at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finch is a sugar daddy.

“There’s something for you, Detective.” One of the uniformed officers brought Fusco a brown box that made him a little bit nervous. He was stuck at the precinct finishing up some paperwork on a case he’d managed to close moments before taking off for the holiday. No one should have known he would still be at work, so the package concerned him. 

“Who dropped it off?” Fusco asked even as he took the package and set it on the desk. 

“Someone from the post office. They’re still making deliveries since it is Christmas Eve. Said this one got buried under a bunch of others and almost didn’t make it to you. Do you need anything else?”

Fusco shook his head and dismissed the officer who nodded and left. He frowned at the package and then took out his pocket knife and cut away the tape. 

“Here’s hoping it isn’t an explosive,” he muttered to himself. A bomb on Christmas Eve was the last thing he needed, especially when all he wanted to do was go pick up his son for dinner. 

Inside the box was something that was definitely not a bomb. It was a sweater, knit cashmere from the look and the way it slide beneath his fingers. The hue was a rather fetching dark blue that actually had a tendency to look good on him. In his mind he ran through the various people who would have the money to send him such a thing and only one name came up time and time again. 

It happened to be the same name written at the bottom of the note included in the box. Harold Finch. He blushed a bit and glanced around the nearly empty room before he pulled the sweater out of the box to get a better look at it. Simple, sturdy, soft, and no doubt warm, it really was the perfect sweater for him. He would have to have a talk with glasses about sending him personal gifts at work, but his gratitude overpowered his sense of nervousness. 

“Got a girl who really likes you, Fusco? Or did your mom send you that,” one of the other detectives commented as he walked by. 

“It was actually your mom, didn’t she tell you?”

The detective shot him a playfully un-amused look and kept walking. Fusco brought the sweater up to his nose and inhaled, uncertain as to what he had been expecting since it just smelled like a store. It was lovely. He set it reverently back in the box and put the box aside as he finished his paperwork. 

When he was ready to leave he disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared wearing the sweater. Other than the guys working Christmas Eve, the squad room was empty and no one even gave him a second glance. As he walked by his desk he made sure to stop in front of the little police officer figurine that still stood watch on the edge of his desk. He stopped long enough that if someone were to be watching, they’d be able to see what he was wearing. 

Then, with a little smile at the camera, he nodded and made his way out of the building with his jacket slung over his arm.


End file.
